I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angelboy Huck.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
Grace Miller is the Most Innocent Lamb in All the Good Lord's Creation
"Oh."
It was bound to happen.
"Hello, Harold."
In a large city of over two hundred thousand people.
"Hello, Ruth."
Huck Finnigan was bound to run into his ex-wife.
"How, uh, how have you been?"
Ruth.
"Oh. Uh, fine. Can't complain."
Ruth with her sky blue eyes and blond hair.
"How are you?"
Ruth who couldn't stand the sight of him after he came back alive from the war less than the man she had married.
"I'm, uh, . . ."
Even now, as she comes face-to-face with the ruined left side of his face, . . .
-going to be sick-
. . . she appears to barely control the urge to shrink away.
". . . I'm fine."
And Huck is caught in a surreal, overbright, fight or flight situation of extreme duress and anxiety.
Here. Again. With Ruth.
Standing here in the bright sunshine.
Just off the streetcar.
Grace had never ridden one.
Had shyly asked if they could.
And smiled brighter than the sun and laughed like an angel as she had held to the vertical handrail with one hand, held on to her hat with the other . . .
"I believe I could ride this all day!"
"I believe you could."
. . . and tilted the rest of her out the open side.
Huck both anxiously watching for a dangerous slip and basking in the glory of her glowing effervescence.
And at the roundtrip stop, the two of them had stepped down, walked along the sidewalk.
Toward Huck's parked car . . .
"Oh, um, stay right here, will you, Huck? I'll be right back."
And so, car within sight, The Light of Huck's Finnigan's Life had suddenly . . .
"Oh, uh, alright. Is everything alright?"
. . . caught hold of an idea . . .
"Yes. I think I spy something with my little eye."
. . . and trapised carelessly across the busy street.
Leaving Huck quite abruptly alone.
Well, not alone.
Not now.
Before, there had been just him.
Just a moment ago.
Waiting in slight bewilderment for his secretive sweetheart to return.
I shouldn't have let her go.
What if she gets lost coming back?
And that had been fine.
But now there's him.
And her.
Ruth.
Ruth whom at one time he thought was to be the love of his life.
His forever companion.
His wife.
His helpmeet.
Ruth.
Who is still . . .
"-janitor at the hospital?"
. . . talking.
And he doesn't feel love for her. Doesn't feel hate.
"Orderly. No. I, uh-"
Doesn't feel anything.
"I, uh, actually I-"
Except an overwhelming urge to escape this entire situation as it is.
Just run, just flee, just hide his face away in shame and shadow.
"He's Head Nurse. He's in charge of the entire staff of the hospital."
And suddenly, she's there.
"Second only to the director."
Grace.
"Aren't you, Huck?"
And there she is.
Beautiful, intelligent, gracious Grace.
"Oh. Uh, yes."
Quite safe and sound.
And returned just in time to bear witness to this his most embarrassing and miserably uncomfortable situation.
From which there is still . . .
"Uh, Ruth, uh, I'd like to, uh, introduce you to-"
. . . no escape.
"Hello, I'm Grace Miller."
Grace.
"Hello."
Who must also be feeling such awful embarrassment, humiliation, discomf-
"Tell me your last name, Ruth? I didn't quite catch it."
"Gates. It's Gates."
"Oh. Mrs. Gates then. A pleasure. I've heard so much about you."
Or perhaps not.
For she has placed herself right next to Huck, Grace has.
Straight and proud and direct and strong.
Reached a hand out boldly to the stunned woman before them.
And taken control of . . .
"Pleasure to ."
"Miss Miller. Yes. It certainly is a small world."
. . . the entire situation with ease.
"Oh. Uh, yes. It is."
And then her voice, Grace's, drops just a bit as she turns to him.
"Huck, I just purchased these flowers for your mother. Do you think she'll like them?"
She does have flowers, something light and fragrant that he can't quite focus on at the moment.
"Oh, uh, yes, I . . ."
And he just manages to speak.
"I think she'll love them, Grace. Thank you."
As his current sweetheart . . .
"Wonderful."
. . . redirects then . . .
"Well, we must be going now. Nice meeting you, Ruth."
. . . to Huck's. . .
"Take care."
We'll be seein' yous again, Miz Gates. Real soon-like.
. . . stammering . . .
"Oh. Yes. Uh, you as well."
. . . ex-wife.
And Ruth, God bless her, . . .
"Goodbye then, . . ."
. . . looks a little pale . . .
". . . Harold."
. . . and just the slightest bit shellshocked.
"Goodbye, Ruth."
And Huck Finnigan and Grace Miller turn from this person he used to know.
And walk away.
It's only a short distance to Huck's almost new, freshly washed car.
He opens the passenger door for her, for Grace, as he always does.
As is his custom.
She thanks him.
"Thank you."
With a lovely smile.
As is her custom.
"You're welcome."
And then uncustomarily, . . .
"I love you, Huck."
. . . gifts him a sweet, not quite brief . . .
"I'm so happy to be with you."
. . . kiss directly upon his lips.
Grace.
As she reaches out her gloved hands.
Grace-
And cups his face.
What are you doing?
Passably handsome and gnarled ruined alike.
She has never kissed him on the mouth in public before.
Even her father's lighted evening porch provided a modicum of privacy.
But this is open air, broad daylight.
For all to see.
Not that he minds.
And Grace's eyes are alight and radiating happiness when she breaks the connection.
Everything in her countenance speaks of honesty and sincerity of intent in her kissing of him.
Her words, her touch, no theater does he sense in this display.
He feels completely and deeply loved and accepted in this moment, this moment that wipes away the anxiety and humiliation of his unanticipated interaction with Ruth.
As she, Grace, countenance aglow.
Wipes a smudge of lipstick from his mouth with a gentle thumb.
And he feels the slow smile spreading over his own face.
And . . .
Grace.
steps back and eases herself innocuously . . .
Grace, Grace.
. . . into the passenger seat.
Lovely yellow tulips in hand.
And Huck, slightly shellshocked now himself, . . .
Grace loves me.
. . . shuts the door.
Oh.
And walks numbly around . . .
Hello, Ruth.
. . . to the driver's side door.
Are you still there?
And puts himself behind the wheel.
I'm not really sure what just happened.
Glances at Grace.
But I know I love this woman.
Who gifts him a sweet, sunny smile.
And I'm ready to . . .
"-move on?"
Yes, Grace.
"I am."
He doesn't ask.
Not until they are almost back to the library.
The day is warm and calm, his Ruth-induced anxiety behind him.
And Grace Miller . . .
"Did you do it on purpose?"
. . . sitting peaceably beside him.
Tulips across her lap.
"Did I do what on purpose?"
He side-eyes her.
Grace.
With her innocent expression.
"Kiss me in front of Ruth."
And small, private, . . .
"Oh, was she still there?"
. . . hint of a smile.
"I hadn't noticed."
And Huck Finnigan . . .
I think my sweetheart has a devilish streak.
. . . isn't so sure.
But there is also something else about the exchange that he realizes . . .
"Grace?"
. . . he wasn't expecting either.
"Yes."
Something . . .
"You've never said that to me before."
. . . that was joyous to hear.
"What?"
And that he had been thinking.
"'I love you'."
For a long time.
"Oh."
And in the heat of the rattled moment, . . .
"You didn't want me to say it?"
. . . almost didn't realize that she had said it.
"No, no. I mean yes."
Because she had, in fact, said it so smoothly and naturally.
"I mean, . . . I want you to feel free to say it if you feel it."
As if it was something she said everyday to him.
"I do feel it."
And he to her.
"Besides, that wasn't the first time I said it to you, you know."
If only in his head.
"It isn't?"
Any time he saw her.
"No."
Every time he saw her.
"The first time I said it to you, you were asleep under a tree. Near a fishing pond."
Anytime he thought about her.
"Oh."
Every time he thought about her.
"Would you like me to say it again?"
Waking.
"Only if you feel it."
Sleeping.
"I love you, Huck."
And now, here, again . . .
"I love you, Grace."
. . . aloud.
I love you so much.
"Oh, what lovely tulips, Grace. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mrs. Finnigan."
"How was your time out? Anything of consequence?"
"No, nothing comes to mind."
Hopefully our Grace was just the proper amount of catty here.
Because, dang, didn't that feel good for Huck? ;)
Thanks to DinahRay for so graciously reviewing before. :)
